Secrets, Lies, and Everyday Angels
by defyinggravity121
Summary: Blaine Anderson is the new student at McKinley High, where he seemingly manages to catch the eye of sexy, seemingly perfect cheerleader Kurt Hummel. But looks can be decieving, because Kurt has more than his share of dark secrets as well. Cheerio!Kurt and Canon!Blaine, with some Canon!Rachel and Anderberry friendship. Taking place during about Sexy-Original Song. WIP.
1. New Kid

**Hey everyone! For anyone who's new to my little slice of internet, welcome! And to anyone who's read and enjoyed some of my past fanfics or knows me as /redvinesandslushies, welcome back! This is my first fanfic in a while, but it will be multi-chapter. I wrote it because I LOVE Cheerio!Kurt and I rarely ever see fics of him where Nerd!Blaine isn't tutoring him (seriously, guys, that's getting old) or that aren't incredibly smutty. So I came up with this. I hope everyone likes it! ~Jess**

Blaine hopped down the disgustingly dirty steps of the smelly, puke-yellow school bus along with all the mountain-esque Neanderthals who either couldn't pass their driving exam or had a serious criminal record. Blaine himself hadn't done any of those things, of course, but it was his first day at a public high school since the...well, the incident that had occurred almost a year before. He had spent the previous nine months (not counting the summertime) at the prestigious Dalton Academy, recovering from both the physical and mental damage that had been done. Dalton had been nice, that was for sure. But it was almost too nice, in an odd way. Blaine had both a strong sense of individuality and a longing for adventure, neither of which made their homes in the hallways occupied by the clean-cut, uniform-wearing prep-school boys of Dalton.

So Blaine wanted to start over. Well, here he was- standing on the front steps of the not-so-prestigious William McKinley High, wearing a button-down shirt, a black pea-coat, and a bowtie in his new school's colors. He'd wanted to take the bus so as not to come off as pretentious, but unfortunately the dapper outfit he'd chosen that morning kind of screamed "I'm a nerdy prep-schooler!". Blaine had realized this earlier, but had decided against wearing something more casual. Wasn't this new beginning supposed to let him display his individuality? And besides, his outfit showed school spirit...right?  
Before Blaine could take another step forward, a passing football player brought his fist down on the many textbooks that were cradled in Blaine's arms, scattering them on the snowy, freezing pavement. Blaine gave a short cry of frustration, kneeling down to pick them up while the jock's malicious laughs quickly faded away into the murmur of the crowd.

So much for school spirit.

After gathering his books, picking himself up, and dusting off his now slightly scuffed-up clothing, Blaine set off towards the front doors of McKinley High. Only a few straggling students remained behind, and Blaine felt the wind pick up slightly as he pushed the doors open. Gazing up at the charcoal-grey sky, Blaine felt a single drop of rain dot the tip of his nose. Instead of brushing it off irritably, Blaine let it slide down the base of his nose and onto his upper lip. It relaxed him slightly, and he smiled faintly. There was nothing like a rainy day to make you feel peaceful.

"Hey. You're gonna be late if you stand around here much longer."

Blaine froze. Who had said that? It was a smooth, throaty voice, elegant yet sweet. Sounded like a girl, maybe. He whipped around and let his eyes land on the source of the unfamiliar voice.

His jaw dropped.

Standing in front of him, just inside the school hallway, was an angel. Or at least, a distant cousin of an angel, wearing an incredibly tight cheerleading uniform. A slim creature made purely up of long legs and sculpted arms and high cheekbones and shiny hair and-

"Hello? You okay?"

Blaine realized he'd been staring. "Uh...um...yeah. Yeah, I'm...um, I'm fine."

The angel glided forward slightly. "Are you new here?"

Blaine grinned stupidly. "Uh, yeah, I'm...I'm new..."

"What's your homeroom?"

Blaine forgot for a second. "It's...um...it's Biology!"

A playful smirk crossed the angel's delicate features. "Want me to get you there? I know a shortcut."

Somewhere in the distance, the bell rang. Blaine barely registered it. "Uh, yeah. Yeah. Sure."

The boy (yes, it was a boy, and what a boy he was! thought Blaine) laughed softly, in a subtly flirtatious way. "Follow me." Before Blaine could say- or attempt to say- anything else, he was off, swiftly making his way down to the end of the deserted hallway. His sneakers made gentle squeaking noises on the linoleum, and Blaine couldn't help notice the way his hips swayed, as well as his positively fantastic ass...

Blaine shook himself out of his reverie and hurried after the boy, his mind whirling. The boy was absolutely gorgeous, that was for sure, and sexy as well. But the problem was...well, Blaine wasn't exactly sure if he "played for his team", per se. He hadn't really given himself up as straight or gay yet, though he had sounded slightly flirty when talking to Blaine. But it was perfectly likely that in Blaine's lovestruck state of mind, he had completely made it up.

But before he could think about what was, what wasn't, and what might possibly be (or not be) between the two of them, they were arriving at the wooden door of the biology classroom. Blaine screeched to a halt, having had to run to keep up with the other boy. (He wasn't exactly someone you could call tall.) But the other boy was as calm and collected, as Blaine assumed was usual, at least for him. "Here you are, new kid."  
Blaine grinned breathlessly. "Thanks. Uh...thanks a lot."

The other boy smiled in a way that, even through Blaine's excitement, could only be described as seductive. "Don't worry about it." He brushed past Blaine gently, knocking against his shoulder ever so slightly. A thrill shot through Blaine's body, and he bit his lip to keep from saying something stupid. He let a second pass before reaching for the door handle, making sure that the angelic boy was heading back to his own homeroom when-

"Meet me in the locker room at five."

A whisper. A promise.

Blaine only grinned, and nodded.  
_

The classes of the day went by in a whirl of textbooks and answers and introductions and getting repeatedly slammed into lockers. By two o'clock, Blaine felt like he was ready to drop dead on the floor. Was this really how public school felt? He was used to schoolwork much more difficult than this, but in truth, the schoolwork wasn't the problem. It was the kids themselves.

"Hey, loser!" came a shout behind Blaine as he pounded down the school hallways, trying to find the History classroom. He ignored it, of course- even by this point in his public-school career, he knew that giving any sort of jerks the attention they were looking for was suicide. So he continued on, eyes locked straight ahead.

"Hey, loser, your boyfriend's looking for you!"

Blaine whipped around. Boyfriend? He had a boyfriend? Could it possibly be-

A split second later, just before Blaine realized that they had been insulting him, something ice-cold and bright blue slammed into his face and began to drip slowly down his back. He could hear the jock's shouts of triumph fading away behind him, as well as the condescending laughter of everyone else in the hallways. At that moment, the only thing that hurt more than Blaine's eyes was his wounded pride.

He never should have left Dalton.

A strong, firm hand grabbed onto Blaine's wrist and began attempting to drag him away somewhere. Blaine tried to open his eyes. Was it him? Had he returned to save Blaine once again? He was like a superhero, Blaine thought dreamily. He was amazing.

"Ex-cuse me! If you want to get cleaned up at all by the time your next class starts, you have to actually come with me, whoever-you-are."

And that was definently not him.

Blaine attempted to open his eyes, but whatever had just flown into his face was dripping down into them, nearly blinding him. He rubbed them with the back of his hand, which came away wet and sticky. "What the hell just happened?"

"Come on!" The voice was female for sure, and very bossy. Blaine had no choice but to let himself be dragged along by the girl, still trying to pry his eyes open. Stumbling over his own feet, he managed to wipe his eyes relatively clean, only to look down at himself and realize that his bowtie was absolutely ruined. Just what he needed.

He glanced up at whoever was rapidly leading him to wherever they were going, and his eyes fell on a petite, dark haired girl wearing a short skirt, kneesocks and...was that a reindeer sweater? Blaine was caught between gagging in disgust and clapping in approval. Well, he would be, if he wasn't being dragged into the nearest womens' bathroom by the oddly-dressed girl. This day just kept getting weirder and weirder.

Finally, when they were safely inside the bathroom, the girl turned to face Blaine with an bizarrely excited look in her eye for someone who was standing in the middle of a deserted bathroom with a blue drenched-boy and wearing a reindeer sweater. "Hi!"

"Hi..." answered Blaine nervously, looking at the girl out of the corner of his eye.

She stuck out her hand, as if she wanted Blaine to shake it, then took one look at Blaine's sticky, blue-stained palm and quickly retracted it. "I'm Rachel Barbra Berry, and I'm going to be on Broadway someday." She looked straight at Blaine as she said this with such conviction that Blaine could tell that she thoroughly believed it.

However, he chose not to dwell on that. "Do you have any idea what just happened?"

Rachel Barbra Berry motioned for him to squat down in front of one of the dirty, cracked sinks. Blaine couldn't think of anything to do but comply. "You just got slushied," she said simply as she turned the faucet on. "Lean back and get your hair wet."

Blaine did so. "What does that mean? Getting slushied. I'm Blaine, by the way," he added, almost as an afterthought.

The girl shrugged and began to use a scratchy paper towel to wipe off Blaine's face. "It's a common pastime here at McKinley. You can get slushies for two dollars in the cafeteria, and when the jocks and popular kids are done with theirs, they...well, they throw it at the losers."

Blaine stared up a the moldy ceiling morosely. "Has it ever happened to you?"

Rachel scoffed and began undoing Blaine's bowtie. "Please. Weekly, if I'm lucky. All the kids in glee club are no stranger to the slushie facial."

With a start, Blaine realized what Rachel had just said. He bolted up, causing Rachel to lose her balance and fall against one of the sinks. Nevertheless, he was to excited to care. "Glee? Like, you know, glee club?"

Now it was Rachel's turn to look a him out of the corner of her eye. "Yeah...like glee club."

Blaine gave a girlish squeal of excitement. "I was in the glee club at my old school! It was so cool! Do you mind if I join yours?"

Rachel's previously suspicious face broke into a wide grin. "Of course! We always need new members. This is so fantastic! Can you sing?" Blaine nodded. "Dance?" He nodded again. Rachel clapped her hands together in excitement and gave a little hop. "Perfect! Can you come to the choir room after school tomorrow?"

Blaine grinned. "Sure! What should I sing?"

"Sing anything, it doesn't matter. Glee club accepts anyone who wants to join!"

"Wow." Blaine rubbed his hands together, slushie facial completely forgotten. "Just...wow. I'm actually really excited!"

Without any warning, Rachel leapt over to Blaine and encased him in a bone-crushing, slightly awkward hug. "I can't wait! See you there!"

Then the girl practically ran out of the bathroom, leaving Blaine alone, still wet and sticky with slushie and completely bowled over by the excess of bizarre and exciting events that had happened to him already. He'd barely been a student at McKinley for a day, but he'd already been late to class, asked out by the hottest gay guy in school, hit by a flying slushie, wiped off by a girl who wore ironic reindeer sweaters and was completely convinced that she was going to be on Broadway, and asked to join the glee club. And the day wasn't even close to over yet.

Well, thought Blaine to himself as he stared at his reflection in the cracked mirror and trying to salvage whatever was left of his previously neatly gelled hair, he had wanted adventure, hadn't he?

**So...do you think I should continue with this? I actually like it a lot right now. What do you guys think?**


	2. Poison and Honey

**Hey guys, it's Jess here. This is the second chapter of the fic (which will be multi-chaptered, but I don't know how long), and just so everyone knows, it's slightly smutty. BUT JUST SLIGHTLY! Nothing below the waist, I promise. Just some sweet boy kisses going on. ;) I just thought I should let everyone know.**

**Anyway, here it is. It's kind of short, but I hope you like it!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, Darren Criss or Chris Colfer. The latter of which I am very sad about.**

* * *

Blaine scratched out the answer to the last equation of his Geometry homework and sighed deeply, leaning his head against the cold, hard surface of a school locker. He had been waiting in the corridor for about two hours now, ever since school had let out at three o' clock. The beautiful boy that Blaine had met earlier was due to come down the hallway at any second, and Blaine's stomach churned just thinking about him and his eyes and his _lips_...

Blaine was jolted out of his reverie by the sound of his cell phone blasting a P!nk song from inside his messenger bag. He fished it out, pressed the little green button, and held it to his ear. "Hello?"

The unmistakable voice of Blaine's brother, Cooper, sounded from the other end of the line. "Hey, squirt. How's it going?"

"Don't call me that!" hissed Blaine, glancing around to make sure nobody was around. "You know it annoys me."

"Why else would I do it?"

Blaine shrugged, even though he knew Cooper couldn't see him. "I don't know, Coop. Maybe to feel superior to me or something? I have no idea what goes on in your head most of the time."

"I don't need to call you a nickname to feel superior to you, you know." The smirk in Cooper's voice was obvious, and Blaine couldn't help but roll his eyes. "So what are you doing?"

The teenager knew that if he revealed too much about what he was actually doing, Cooper would figure it out and give him hell for the next three months. So he tried to be vague, giving away as least as he possibly could without making his brother suspicious. "Nothing much. Just doing my homework. What about you?"

To Blaine's relief, Cooper didn't dwell on Blaine's hasty, obscure answer. "I'm getting ready to go in for an audition. It's for a car commercial."

Blaine sighed. His parents already doted on his "famous" brother, and another car commercial or radio voice-over wouldn't change that in the least. Nevertheless, he decided to be civil. "Break a leg in there."

"Thanks."

A brief, awkward pause ensued, and Blaine fidgeted nervously. Talking to his brother was always difficult, since they barely saw each other and, despite their shared love of performing, didn't have a whole lot in common. Still, it was nice to have someone in his family who actually made an effort to talk to him. Blaine attempted and failed to make light coversation. "So...did you watch the football game last weekend?"

Thankfully, Cooper interrupted him quickly. "Oh, God, they just called my number. I gotta go. I'll call you back, okay?"

"Okay," answered Blaine, but the line was already dead. He stuffed his phone into his pocket just as he heard faint footsteps coming from the other end of the hallway. His heart leapt with anticipation, and he looked in the direction of the noise anxiously, all thoughts of Cooper forgotten.

Sure enough, it was him. His glossy chestnut hair had escaped its coiff and was now messy and tousled, sticking almost straight up. His brow was damp with sweat, and his uniform top clung to his chest, outlining sharp, toned muscles. In the half-light of the hallway, he almost seemed to glow.

Blaine sat for a second, stupefied and speechless, then hastily scrambled to his feet. The boy's head turned at the noise of Blaine's polished shoes squeaking against the linoleum, and warm brown eyes met shockingly blue ones in the gold-orange evening light. Blaine could have sworn he felt a bolt of electricity crackle through the air when they matched each other's gaze.

Suddenly, time seemed to slow as the beautiful young man sauntered towards Blaine, a mischevious smirk playing on his full lips. "What are you doing?"

Blaine's tounge grew thick and heavy with anxiety and longing. His words clung to the sides of his mouth, and he forced them out with great difficulty. "I-I'm just..w-working on...homework." He grinned awkwardly.

The other boy, though, advanced on Blaine gracefully, putting a slender, pale finger to Blaine's chest and pressing him gently against the lockers. Blaine was sure that people across the neighborhood could hear his rapidly pounding heart. "Have you finished yet?" the other purred.

"A-almost," stuttered Blaine, staring at the gorgeous boy's pale finger, the lockers cold against his back. Was the boy actually doing what he seemed to be doing?

In an instant, Blaine's question was answered as his hips were pinned against the lockers by the other boy's in a single, fluid movement. His breath caught in his throat as the other boy leaned forward. "Good," he breathed softly into Blaine's ear, sending chills down his spine. "I don't want that on my conscience."

Before Blaine could protest (not that he wanted to), the gorgeous boy's full, pink lips were clasping on his earlobe. He exhaled slowly, letting himself slip into the other's arms. Long, drawn out kisses were pressed onto his neck, face, shoulders, anywhere where his skin was exposed. Their lips crashed together haphazardly, lustfully, and Blaine sighed into the kiss. The boy tasted like honey. Suddenly, Blaine took the action to deepen the kiss, maybe adding a little tounge. Okay, more than a little. "What's your name?" he said, gasping for breath.

"Kurt," responded the other boy, mouthing the word against Blaine's cheekbone. Briefly, he pulled away and stared right into Blaine's eyes, a smirk playing on his swollen lips. "And you?"

Blaine shifted his position, sweat shiny on his forehead, so Kurt's body slammed against the lockers. "Blaine," he said quickly, then went straight to work at Kurt's neck. Subconsciously, in the place where he could still form coherent thoughts, he marveled at the beauty and sudden lust of this odd, gorgeous boy. One thing was for sure, though- Blaine's first impression of him was totally wrong. This guy, the guy whose hair Blaine was running his hands through as teeth and lips were pressed hard onto his neck, was no angel.

Blaine ran his hands under Kurt's shirt, over flawless porcelain skin and perfect washboard abs. Kurt moaned softly in delight, sending chills up Blaine's spine. In a surge of daring, he grabbed the hem of Kurt's tight cheerleading uniform top and pulled it over Kurt's head, barely taking his mouth off of Kurt's neck. Kurt's lips quirked up into a slight smile, and they pushed their lips together without regret or abandon-

Suddenly, a soft vibrating began from somewhere near Blaine's hip, startling him. Was that supposed to happen? He'd never really done this before.

But when he looked up, embarrassed, he met Kurt's equally quizzical eyes. "That's new," Kurt quipped, obviously trying to hide his discomfort.

A lightbulb went off in Blaine's mind. He seperated his body from Kurt's and drew his madly vibrating phone out of his pocket. Cooper's number flashed on the screen. With an apologetic look at Kurt, Blaine answered it. "COOPER!" he hissed, turning away from the other boy. "Couldn't you have called another time?"

"You told me to call you back when I got out of the audition, so I did!" retorted Cooper. "What on earth is so important that you're mad about me calling you in the middle of it?"

_Oh, nothing, just making out with the hottest guy in school. How's your day been? _"That's none of your business," growled Blaine."

"Well, fine, if you're not going to tell me."

"What on earth is up your ass, Cooper?" He didn't notice Kurt's eyes widen beside him at Blaine's choice of words.

"What's up my ass? I call my younger brother and he picks up the phone and starts yelling at me. That's what's up my ass! What's up YOURS?"

"Nobody," Blaine answered hastily.

"Nobody? Wait...no_body_?!"

Damn it. Blaine had dug himself into a deep, deep hole, and it was going to take some skillful talking to get himself out of it. "Sorry," he mouthed to a very awkward-looking, still shirtless Kurt, then dashed off down the hallway, Cooper jabbering in his ear.

Kurt watched him go, footstep after pounding footstep echoing in the near-empty hallway.

* * *

**So...what do you think? There's definitely angst coming up. So much angst. Just wait...*evil laugh***

**Not that I would ever wish angst on my dear Kurt and Blaine. But, I admit, angst is fun to write.**

**I'm not evil, I promise!**


	3. Sorry

**This chapter's kind of short, but angsty. Very angsty. MAH POOR BABY KURT WHY DO I DO THIS TO YOU? :,(**

**I promise that the next chapter wil be a long one! I promise!**

**Reviews are like crack to me...*le hopeful face***

**~Jess**

Kurt stepped out of the shiny, black Navigator into a night of a similar quality. The freezing wind slashed into his cheeks like a thousand knives as he drew his coat closer to him and began to make his way to the front door of his house. Dark skeletons of empty trees waved overhead, spidery hands threatening to grab Kurt and choke him, choke him until he could not think or breathe or see.

Too late. It had already been done.

The lock clicked gently as Kurt opened the door to a silent, dark house. His father wouldn't be home for several hours more, at least.

He was completely alone, trapped with his ghosts.

He slung off his messenger bag and coat, draping both over a nearby armchair, then headed straight for his bedroom without bothering to turn on any lights. The blackness washed over his eyes and face, lapping at his body like waves on an ocean shore. If Kurt kept it dark inside, which he intended to, he knew that nobody could see him. Nobody could find him in the silence of the winter night.

Not even Him.

He was at home now, most likely, maybe doing His homework or playing some violent video game and cursing every ten seconds. Maybe He was out somewhere with His friends, drinking beer and pretending to hit on girls. The thought of Him made Kurt's blood run cold. Even four months later, the irony taste of His breath still lingered on Kurt's tounge and in his nightmares. But the doors to the house were locked tight, and the night provided a silvery curtain that seperated Kurt's world from everyone else's.

Kurt reached his bedroom and entered slowly, making sure that nobody was there already. He had been growing more and more paranoid in the months since everything had begun. He always made sure to lock the doors and windows, he never told anyone his locker combination, and he was constantly looking over his shoulder to make sure that nobody was following him. Most of the time, he would look back and see nobody there.

Sometimes, someone would be.

The only thing that Kurt was not afraid of anymore was the dark.

Once the doors were locked and bolted shut, Kurt sighed, utterly drained as always. He limped over to his mirror and looked for his face in the silvery moonlight.

A broken porcelain doll with fractured skin and a thin, gaunt face stared back with sunken eyes.

In that instant, looking at the broken shell of he boy he used to be and the boy everyone thought he was, Kurt wanted to claw the quiet up, rip it to shreds. He wanted to feel the ribbons of unsaid pain gathered beneath his fingernails, the blood of his loathing for everybody and everything spilled on the ground. He was tired of being silent.

But what else could he be?

Even at school, he was silent. Weren't submission and silence the same thing? Submission to a blur of tests and grades and cheerleading uniforms dripping down like watercolors, bleeding into pain and heat and faceless boys with their cold lips on his cracked, bleeding ones.

Kurt pressed a cold finger against his mouth, feeling the place where his lips had touched so many others'. Too many to count by now. Maybe if he rubbed hard enough, he could rub away the stink of lust and greed on their breaths. It made him want to throw up.

And none of them were sorry.

Sorry. Sorry sorry sorry sorry. The word was foreign in his mouth, the one word which had seperated him from the most recent boy. Sorry.

What was his name again? Blake or something. Wait, no. Blaine. That was it.

Blaine.

It was a nice name, Kurt thought.

Blaine.

Sorry Blaine.

Who was the one who was supposed to be sorry, Blaine or Kurt?

Suddenly, the Hudson-Hummel house phone burst into loud, obnoxious ringing, making Kurt jump and scurry over to the phone still sitting on his dresser from when he had talked to his grandmother earlier that week. (She never had gotten the hang of cell phones.) He picked it up and squinted at the unfamiliar number displayed on its screen, debating whether to answer it or not. Assuming it was some company trying to sell him something, he almost placed the phone back down.

But something stopped him.

Something that Kurt had never felt before, something strange and warm and urgent. Something coiled up in the pit of his stomach and not moving. Odd, disembodied words popped into Kurt's mind, whispered into his ear by a voice he almost recognized but couldn't quite place. Sorry. Blaine. Shortcut. And for some odd reason, staircase.

Just before it stopped ringing, Kurt Hummel picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

In that moment, unbeknownst to Kurt, his life changed forever.

"Hi," answered an oddly familiar voice.

"Hi," said Kurt, unsure of what else to do.

"Is Kurt...ah...Kurt Hummel, that's it...is Kurt Hummel there?"

"This is him."

"Oh! Oh. Hi, Kurt."

Kurt twirled the phone cord around his finger nervously. "If you don't mind my asking, who is this?"

"Right. Who am I. Sorry about that."

That word again. Sorry.

A brief silence followed. Kurt shattered it with words like stones. "Well? What do you want?"

"Blaine. Blaine Anderson. I'm the guy you...we..."

"Made out in the hallway," said Kurt bluntly, neglecting to put on his sexy-cheerleader persona. What was the point?

"Yeah. Right."

"How did you get my number?"

"In the student directory. They had it, you know, there. In the directory."

"I'm pretty sure I didn't tell you my last name." That hadn't been an accident.

"Well, our school is kinda small, and Kurt's not a really common name. Neither is Hummel."

"Oh. Yeah. Right."

Silence on both ends of the line. Kurt chewed his lip.

Blaine cleared his throat nervously. "I just wanted to say...I'm sorry for leaving you in the hall like that. It feels kinda crappy to get left alone like that, and I just wanted to apologize for doing that to you."

Kurt decided that Blaine apologized much too often about meaningless things. "It's okay." It wasn't the worst that had been done to him, not by far.

But what Blaine said next was what really surprised him. "I want to make it up to you."

Why? Kurt asked himself bitterly. He knew barely deserved to even speak to Blaine, let alone have something made up to him. The only things that were made up in Kurt's life was Kurt himself. Or at least, the Kurt that everyone saw. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that I'm sorry, and I want to take you out for coffee."

Coffee? Kurt was taken aback.

His lips had touched a thousand others', but nobody ever asked him out to coffee.

This Blaine was an interesting boy, unlike any other Kurt had ever met. Kurt liked it.

Kurt liked him.

A deep breath. Then, "What about on Wednesday?"

He could hear the smile in Blaine's voice. "After school? The Lima Bean?"

"Yeah." The warm feeling was back, coating Kurt's hollow insides like honey. "Sounds great."

Wednesday.

A word had never held such promise.

After Blaine had hung up, Kurt stared at the phone in quiet disbelief. The warm feeling crawled up to his throat, bubbling and gurgling softly, begging to escape.

But Kurt didn't want to let it go. He held it in tightly, never letting it escape his lips.

It was comforting, holding that warmth and light deep inside of him. If Kurt closed his eyes tight, he could almost make the scary movies playing on the insides of his eyelids disappear.

Almost.

But not quite.

**So angsty, I know.**

**UGH POOR KURT THE FEELS OVERWHELMED ME...**


	4. Walls Come Down

**Gah. Sorry this took so long to write. This chapter is pretty long, and I've been really busy...yeah.**

**Also, KLAINE IS MAKING OUT NEXT WEEK ASDFGHJKL.**

**Anyway. I hope you like this chapter!**

**-Jess**

The next afternoon, Blaine rapped on the door to Will Schuester's office quietly, his knuckles just grazing the smooth wood. Rachel had informed him to come see Mr. Schuester promptly after school that day if he wanted to audition for glee club, so Blaine had freed up his schedule a little bit to meet with the teacher and hopefully give his audition. He had spent most of the previous night practicing his audition song over and over again, while, of course, fantasizing about singing it to one special person in particular. Blaine was a stickler for always putting all of his emotion into his songs, and nobody was better to visualize when belting out the lyrics then, well, a very specific person that he knew.

However, Blaine hadn't seen that specific person at school all day. They hadn't collided in the hallway or the locker room, and Blaine unfortunately wasn't in any of his classes. He was also getting the feeling that Kurt had begun to let his guard down a little the previous night, when they had spoken over the phone, and it was perfectly possible that he was a bit, well, intimidated by that.

It was also perfectly possible that Blaine was being intentionally avoided. He leaned against the door, deep in thought. Maybe Kurt felt that he was "too good" for Blaine, and didn't want to be seen talking to him in public. Blaine hoped that that wasn't the case, because Kurt seemed like kind of a nice guy, under the cheerleading uniform. He also tasted good. Like, really good.

Suddenly, Blaine lost his balance when the door to Mr. Schuester's office was flung open, revealing a young man not much older than Blaine himself clad in jeans, a t-shirt, and sneakers. Blaine caught himself and looked up at the bizarrely tall boy, wondering if this could possibly be the Spanish teacher. He looked a little too, well, student-ish to work at the school.

The other boy looked equally caught by surprise to see a kid who he'd never met suddenly almost falling into him. He took a step back, proceeding to knock a pencil cup, a stapler, and several textbooks off the desk that was right behind him. The objects hit the floor with a crash, and both boys cringed at the loud noise.

Without a second thought, Blaine rushed over and began to pick up the pens from the floor. The other boy knelt down next to him. "Oh my god, that was an accident, I didn't mean to-"

Blaine chuckled darkly. "No, it's my fault. I was the one who freaked you out in the first place. Sorry about that, by the way."

The other boy picked up several books with one hand and hoisted them up to the table. "Crap. Mr. Schue's gonna kill both of us."

"Well, he'll kill us together," said Blaine drily, and the other boy laughed.

Suddenly, a question seemed to pop into his mind. "Who are you, anyway?"

"Blaine Anderson, honor roll, Katy Perry enthusiast." Blaine sat back on his haunches and looked at the other kid. "And you?"

"Finn Hudson, glee clubber, uh...food enthusiast."

"Oh, you're in glee club too?" Blaine said. "I was planning on auditioning today!"

Finn gave a goofy grin. "Oh! That's really cool. We don't get a lot of guys in Glee, and we kinda need to fill a spot, too. Can you sing?"

"Yeah, and I have an audition song, too. I practiced for, like, hours last night."

"Awesome! The club meeting is going to start in a couple of minutes, if you want to hang around a little."

Blaine shrugged. "Sure. Where's the meeting?"

"It's usually in the choir room, but that's being used for a band rehearsal today. So we're meeting in the auditiorium."

"Where's that?"

Finn stood up. "I can show you there, if you like. The meeting's starting in a couple minutes, and I was just grabbing some sheet music for Mr. Schue before we started."

"Cool, thanks." Blaine picked up the last couple of pencils from the door and followed Finn out into the hallway.

The halls were warm and quiet in the late-afternoon light, silent but for the squeak of Finn's sneackers and the clicking of Blaine's loafers against the linoleum. Blaine was starkly reminded of where he had been at this time yesterday, and he wondered where Kurt could possibly be now. Maybe he was at cheerleading practice, running some polished, sexy number...

Blaine shook his head to clear it. If he wanted to make friends, he acrually had to make an effort. So with great difficulty, he caught up to Finn, who was several strides in front of him, and tried to think of something to say. "So...who was the person that quit recently?"

Finn's face fell. "Um...well...I don't know if we should talk about that. It's kind of a...a touchy subject with everyone."

"Oh." Blaine fell back into silence. Maybe it had been Finn's girlfriend or something, and they'd had a big fight about it.

As the two boys continued down the deserted hallway, strains of laughter and singing began to reach Blaine's ear. The sound intensified as they kept walking, drawing closer to its source. Blaine's fists clenched with excitement. Maybe he'd be able to make some actual friends here, as well as being able to see Rachel again. Something about her slightly manic friendliness was almost charming, and she seemed like a nice enough person. Finn did as well. Maybe McKinley wasn't going to be as bad as Blaine had thought, especially if he could get to know some of the kids in glee club.

Finn glanced back at Blaine and offered a quick thumbs-up before pushing open the steel handle of the wooden double door leading into "The April Rhodes Civic Pavilion", as the plaque just outside the door read. Blaine was instantly greeted by the sight of twelve or so kids mingling with each other in the general audience area, laughing and talking. A dark-skinned girl harmonized with a nerdy-looking guy in a wheelchair while the guy strummed his guitar. Two blondes sat in the audience, chatting. Blaine watched in interest as a tall, raven-haired girl joined them, dragging along a buff dude with a Mowhawk. Blaine grinned. It felt like home already.

Finn began to make his way down the steps into the auditorium, gesturing for Blaine to follow. Blaine complied, jogging along behind the tall boy. He gazed around at the theater as he hopped down the carpeted stairs, taking in the tall rafters and bright stagelights and well-worn stage, scarred from years of use. There had been nothing like this at Dalton, which had been all high-tech lighting and well-polished floors. This place felt, somehow, more...more real. Like important things had happened here, and would continue to happen.

"Finn!" called a male voice, and Blaine looked toward the source of it to see a curly-haired man clad in a neatly pressed vest, with a brown tie and loafers. He had to be the Spanish teacher, Mr. Schuester. "Glad to see you here," the teacher said, clapping a hand on Finn's shoulder. Catching sight of Blaine, his eyes narrowed slightly, but not in an an unfriendly way. "Who's this?"

Blaine stepped forward and stuck out his hand. "I'm Blaine. I'm a new transfer student from Dalton Academy, and I hears about your glee club, and was wondering if I could audition."

Mr. Schuester's face broke into a wide grin. "Sure! Do you have a song?"

Blaine nodded. "Yeah, I practiced it last night."

The teacher smiled grew even bigger, if possible. It was clear that new additions to the club were rare, and were much coveted. "Fantastic! That's fantastic, Blaine. I'll need to get the meeting started, then you can come up and sing, okay?"

Another nod. Then the teacher smiled, and shook his hand, and Finn gave him a high-five and a grin. "Awesome, dude. I can't wait to see it!"

Suddenly, Blaine felt a tap on his shoulder, and he whipped around quickly, only to be greeted with the sight of none other than Rachel Berry, today sporting a light-pink dress that was slightly less offensive than the sweater that she had worn the previous day. "Blaine! I didn't think you'd show up!" she chirped, and Blaine offered a wry half-smile.

"Yeah, well, here I am," he said with a small chuckle. "Hang on, Rachel, I've just gotta ask Finn something-"

But when Blaine turned, Finn had disappeared.

He shrugged nonchalantly and turned back to the girl, trying to hide his confusion. "Huh. Okay. Do you mind if I sit with you?"

Rachel shook her head and gave a small smile tinged with sadness, a strange melancholia that hadn't been there before reflected in her eyes. "That's fine." As Blaine took the seat next to Rachel, he noticed her glance lingering toward the other end of the auditorium, where some of the boys were sitting down as well.

He didn't like seeing Rachel so...distraught about whatever she was distraught about, so he tried to change the subject. "So what do you guys do here, exactly?"

But Rachel had shaken herself out of her obviously upset reverie and had found something new to stare at with wide, brown eyes- Blaine's neck. Blaine's eyebrows shot up to his hairline in surprise and maybe a little bit of apprehension. "Rachel? Are you...are you there?"

Rachel's expression, however, was an incredulous one. "Blaine...is that a hickey on your neck?"

Instantly, Blaine was grateful for the dim lighting in the auditorium, so Rachel couldn't see him flush a bright tomato red. He clapped a hand to his collar quickly and desperately racked his brains for a cover-up. "Uh...no...no. It's...I slipped and fell yesterday. Yeah. That's it."

However, Rachel wasn't as easy to lie to as Cooper was, and saw right through his cover immediately. "Blaine...Blaine...ugh, what's your last name?"

"Anderson."

Rachel began again, unfazed. "Blaine Anderson, that is a hickey and we both know it! I don't care that you have it, I just want to..." She paused and leaned in closer, a mischevious smile resting on her lips. "I want to know if you're dating anyone!"

Blaine pulled away. "Are you trying to hit on me?"

Rachel groaned and shook her head. "Of course not! I just want to know if you've got someone special in your life. That's what friends do, right?"

Friend. He was her friend.

Maybe he could trust her.

He'd have to talk in code, though, so she wouldn't suspect too much, "Well, I met this cheerleader..."

Rachel's brow furrowed. "Wait, I thought you were gay."

Blaine was completely taken aback by this. He hadn't anticipated her response at all. Frankly, Rachel seemed a little bit too smart and much too blunt for her own good. "I don't think I ever told you that."

She shrugged. "Most guys who come to school wearing bowties and peacoats are gay. Actually, I've only seen two guys ever come to school wearing a bowtie non-ironically, one of them being you."

"Who was the other guy?" asked Blaine, but Rachel was onto another topic.

"Besides," she continued, "you wanted to audition for glee. You also didn't argue when I dragged you into the women's restroom."

"Touché," said Blaine with a chuckle. "Yes, I'm gay, and yes, it was a cheerleader."

"I didn't peg you as the bearding type, Blaine Anderson."

"I'm not the 'bearding type', Rachel Berry," Blaine retorted, slightly exasperated. "There are male cheerleaders too. And you know they're all gay."

Rachel shrugged. "That's probably true. So was he hot?"

"Very. He was very hot."

"You're so lucky! Getting a hot cheerleader to make out with you on the first day of school..." Rachel sighed dreamily. "What was his name again?"

But at that moment, their conversation was interrupted by Mr. Schuester clapping his hands and shouting, "Hey, guys, find a seat. That means sit down, Brittany, don't actually try to find a seat. Anyway, I want to get started with the meeting." He gestured to Blaine. "We have a new member of glee club with us today! Guys, this is Blaine, who just transferred from Dalton Academy. He's going to sing something for us today, right, Blaine?"

Blaine stood up and gave a small smile. "Yeah, sure." He pushed his way past Rachel, who offered an encouraging grin and thumbs-up, and made his way up to the stage. The stagelights beat down on his head as he ascended the steps onto the well-worn dance floor, and he wondered irrelevantly if the heat would melt his hair gel. As Mr. Schuester nodded at him pleasantly and descended down to the audience, Blaine took center stage, anxiously fiddling with his belt loop. He gave a quiet cough and a small, awkward wave. "Hi, guys, I'm Blaine. Blaine Anderson. I'm auditioning for glee club today, and I'm singing Teenage Dream by Katy Perry. So, well, take it away." He nodded to the pianist who seemed to just be sitting randomly there, waiting for instruction. The pianist nodded, as if he knew exactly what to do, and began playing the opening chords to the song. Blaine took a deep breath, clenched his sweaty palms, and began to sing.

_You think I'm pretty_

_Without any makeup on_

_You think I'm funny_

_When I tell the punchline wrong_

_I know you get me_

_So I let my walls come down, down_

Blaine began to loosen up a little, swaying in time to the music. A small smile rested on his mouth when Kurt's face came into his mind, as it always did.

_Before you met me_

_I was alright but things_

_Were kinda heavy_

_You brought me to life_

_Now every February_

_You'll be my Valentine, Valentine_

_Let's go all the way tonight_

_No regrets, just love_

_We can dance, until we die_

_You and I, will be young forever_

Blaine began to get really into the song, jumping up and down and motioning for the glee kids to start dancing. Most did, laughing and singing along with him. Blaine grinned. This was so much better than the Warblers.

_You make me feel_

_Like I'm livin' a_

_Teenage dream_

_The way you turn me on_

_I can't sleep_

_Let's run away and_

_Don't ever look back,_

_Don't ever look back_

_My heart stops_

_When you look at me_

_Just one touch_

_Now baby I believe_

_This is real_

_So take a chance and_

_Don't ever look back,_

_Don't ever look back_

Before Blaine could sing anything else, Rachel jumped up onto the stage and grabbed his hand playfully. Blaine laughed and began to swing her around, doing a simplified, high-energy two-step. Soon, the rest of the glee club followed suit, running up onto the stage and finding a partner to dance with. Somewhere in his mind, Blaine sighed internally, wishing that he could maybe dance with Kurt.

But he knew that was clearly a pipe dream, so he banished the thought from his mind and continued singing animatedly.

_I'm a get your heart racing_

_In my skin-tight jeans_

_Be your teenage dream tonight_

_Let you put your hands on me_

_In my skin-tight jeans_

_Be your teenage dream tonight_

_Yoooouuu_

_You make me feel_

_Like I'm livin' a_

_Teenage dream_

_The way you turn me on_

_I can't sleep_

_Let's run away and_

_Don't ever look back,_

_Don't ever look back_

_No_

_My heart stops_

_When you look at me_

_Just one touch_

_Now baby I believe_

_This is real_

_So take a chance and_

_Don't ever look back,_

_Don't ever look back_

In the back of the theater, unbeknownst to anyone, a dark shape watched Blaine singing, his jaw clenched. More than anything, he wanted to run up to the sage, to push that Rachel Berry away, and dance with the boy he loved.

The boy he loved.

There was no denying it now. Kurt Hummel had dug himself into a very, very deep hole with this guy, and there would be no climbing out.

Kurt turned away and stalked back down the hallway, apprehension and regret and something else knawing at his stomach.

However, in the auditorium, life went on, as life often tends to do, with the glee club singing the last phrase of the song together, Blaine finally one of them.

_I'm a get your heart racing_

_In my skin-tight jeans_

_Be your teenage dream tonight_

_Let you put your hands on me_

_In my skin-tight jeans_

_Be your teenage dream tonight._

**Thanks for reading! Reviews are love!**


	5. To Look Within

**So this chapter, once again, is really short. I'm sorry! I write in little sections instead of big blocks!**

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Kurt sat at the glossy wooden table, oblivious to the colorful, lively world around him. The demons in his mind sat across from him, watching him, close enough to reach out and grab ahold of him by the neck any second. They were always present, walking beside Kurt in the hallways, peering over his shoulder at his homework that he never had the energy to finish, caressing him and touching him in ways that Kurt didn't _want_ to be touched.

They terrified Kurt in every way possible.

But they refused to leave him alone.

It was worst at night. The monsters emerged from the shadows and placed dark hands over Kurt's mouth and bound his hands together and did THINGS to him, unspeakably painful things. Kurt always tried to scream, but no sound would ever escape his chapped, bleeding lips.

He was slowly wasting away to nothing, trapped in his own mind with only his nightmares for company.

And nobody seemed to notice.

"Hi," said a soft, gentle voice, and Kurt looked up in surprise. The boy hadn't forgotten, like he was supposed to. It had all been planned out in Kurt's mind, in the brief, numb silence between horrors. Kurt would show up to the coffee shop and Blaine would not, and Kurt would sit there for an hour or so and stare at his bleeding cuticles and not make eye contact with anyone. Then he would go home and dig a small, warm hole between the covers of his bed and crawl in and simply _exist_ for several hours, until his father arrived home and he would pretend to eat dinner but really just cut everything up into tiny pieces, and then there would be _how was your days_ and _what did you get on that tests_ and short, non-committal answers and then going back upstairs and falling asleep, slipping into his own personal hell where nothing was real and everything hurt. That was Kurt's plan.

But.

There always was a but.

And the perfect example of a but, of an if, of a maybe, was sitting right in front of him, smiling and sipping his coffee and wearing a ridiculous but sort of endearing bowtie.

"Hi," said Kurt.

Blaine grinned like Kurt had told him that he had won the lottery instead of just giving a monosyllabic greeting. "How are you?"

Horrible. Angry. Terrified. Weak. Empty. Bitter. Insecure. Dying a slow, awful death day by day.

"I'm fine."

Blaine smiled again. A part of Kurt wanted to rip it off his face, to crumple it up and toss it into the nearest garbage can, because it was happy and genuine and everything that Kurt wasn't. Blaine was agonizingly lucky to be able to smile like that.

"Do you want something to eat? A pastry or something? " Blaine asked, and Kurt shook his head.

"No, thank you. I already ate." He hadn't eaten anything since Monday.

However, Blaine seemed satisfied by Kurt's answer. Didn't he think it odd that Kurt wasn't trying to seduce him anymore? When this occured to him, Kurt instantly sat up a little straighter and lowered his eyelids slightly in a rakish way. Blaine had already come dangerously close to shattering Kurt's carefully constructed facade, so Kurt had to continue to lie to him, to show him the sexy cheerleader that he had made out with instead of the broken boy that he had called on the telephone. He had no choice.

"So did you miss me?" Kurt purred, and Blaine's eyes widened with longing and hunger and something else, something almost like surprise. Like a question.

But questions were always second to sex. Kurt knew that. Screw first, think later.

The happy, childish grin was gone from Blaine's face, replaced by a mindless, stupid one. It was almost amazing how quickly Blaine's gears shifted from "nice guy" to "hot damn". In a weird way, Kurt really hated that too.

"Y-yeah," said Blaine, tripping over his own words in his excitement. "I guess I...I did."

"Good," breathed Kurt softly, and he hated himself for it. For being this way, for manipulating Blaine, for everything. He was sorry for his own existance.

"So..." Blaine began, obviously at a loss for words. "So do you come here often?"

How bizarrely ironic it was that Blaine had attempted to use a cheesy pickup line in conversation. Kurt tried not to think about how it was sort of cute. "Occasionally." He slid his finger along the rim of his coffee cup, then placed it in his mouth and sucked on it delicately. Under the table, he saw Blaine cross his legs supiciously tight. "When I don't anything better to do."

"Oh. Okay."

A brief pause. Kurt wondered if he was trying too hard.

When Blaine spoke again, the unidentifiable note had returned to his voice. "Sometimes I come here and get a table alone and just sit and...and watch people, you know? Just kind of...look." Kurt raised a perfectly tweezed eyebrow, and Blaine's eyes grew wide. "No, no, not like that! Like...have you ever sat outside on your curb and watched people walking by? Or been waiting at the bus stop and saw everyone just going about their daily business, and just kind of looked and...and wondered?" Blaine talked with his hands when he got excited, Kurt noted. "Wondered who they were, and what their names are, and what jobs they have or if they have jobs at all, and how old they are, and if they have a family, and all that stuff."

Kurt was silent, staring into his coffee cup. This boy had an odd way of making him feel naked, and not naked physically, but naked mentally, if there was such a thing. It was if Blaine could see right through him, right through his many masks, into who Kurt really was.

It disarmed Kurt so much that he did something that he hadn't done in a very, very long time. He let himself slip, allowed himself to stumble and fall hard and fast.

In the process, he may have bled a little bit of truth out.

"I thought I was the only one who did that," he found himself saying, cocking his head to one side.

Blaine laughed into his drink. "I thought I was too." He looked up at Kurt, and Kurt once again got the strange feeling that Blaine's beautiful hazel eyes were X-raying him. "I guess we're not as alone as we thought we were."

Kurt grinned, really grinned, for the first time in months. He took an actual sip of his coffee just as a middle-aged woman wearing a suit walked past their table. Kurt leaned in close to Blaine after the woman had passed, a laugh in his voice. "Okay, so her name is...what do you think it is?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you ever do that when you people-watch? You pick a person, and then you make up their name and their job and their family and stuff."

Blaine smiled and chuckled. "Oh, okay. I get it." He paused to think briefly. "So that woman, the one who just walked past our table, her name is...Eileen Martin. She's a lawyer with three kids and a husband who spends all of the money she makes on sports cars. Even though she makes a lot of money at her job, her true passion is gardening." Blaine nudged Kurt. "Your turn."

"Okay. That little girl over there, the one in the pink dress, her name is Ellie Whitman. She's in kindergarten and her life's goal is to be a princess. The man she's standing with is her father, Joseph Whitman, who owns and operates an Italian restaurant. He divorced his wife because she was having an affair, but got custody of Ellie."

Blaine smiled. "Who was he having an affair with?"

"Well, it wasn't really an affair," said Kurt, raising his eyebrows. "It was a one-night stand she had while Joseph was out of town and she was drunk. She told him about it and he divorced her."

"Sounds like a soap opera," said Blaine, and Kurt laughed. The sound felt foreign and out of place in his mouth. "Okay, my turn." Blaine leaned on the table on his elbows. The warm feeling that had materialized that night while talking to Blaine on the phone was back, but it was roiling and turning like a stormy sea.

Blaine took a deep breath. "So this boy, one kind of near me, he's a junior in high school. He's very popular and well-liked for many reasons, but under that, he's shy and afraid. He's got a lot of secrets, too."

Kurt's heart began to crawl up his throat. "You didn't mention a name." He paused. "Does he have one?"

Blaine didn't break eye contact. "You know his name."

In an instant, the intensity of the moment was shattered as Kurt abruptly stood up, almost knocking over his coffee cup in the process. "I have to go," he said brusquely, then slung his leather messenger bag over his shoulder. He felt like a complete idiot. How much stupider could he get? Kurt began to hurry out towards the door, tears welling up at the corner of his eyes.

But at the last second, he looked back at Blaine, sitting alone and dejected at the coffee table with the saddest-looking expression on his face that Kurt had ever seen.

Kurt turned his back and walked away, leaving two impossible, unspoken words hanging in the cold, empty space between them.

_I'm sorry._

**I hope you liked it! **

**Reviews are like crack to me... ;)**


	6. Not Worth The Time, Not Worth The Pain

**I'M SORRY. I'm so terrible at updating. In my defense, I finished the next few chapters, and they'll be up shortly. I know. I suck.**

**But, hey, at least I actually got around to doing this.**

**Please R&R! I love feedback!**

* * *

The front door slammed shut behind Blaine as he angrily threw his backpack onto the nearest chair, not bothering to take off his shoes. He shrugged off his coat and tossed it into a corner, then tore up the stairs as quickly as he could. Tears stung his eyes as he flung open the door to his bedroom and collapsed on his plaid bedspread. How the hell could he be so freaking STUPID? He had almost gotten through to Kurt, almost earned his trust, then he had to go and try to be perceptive and screw everything up. And then Kurt had left him alone at the table, and Blaine had felt like he could just die, just curl up into a little ball and let the world leave him behind. He was humiliated and angry and so, so incredibly sorry for what he had done. He wanted to run as fast as he could over to Kurt's house and catch him in his arms and tell him that it was all going to be okay.

But he couldn't do that. Not anymore.

Possibly not ever, now that he had screwed everything up.

A knock on Blaine's bedroom door jolted him out of his bitter reverie. "Blaine? You in there?"

Blaine sat up in surprise. The voice that had called out on the other side of the door had been none but his brother's. His brother, who was currently living across the country and hadn't mentioned anything about coming to visit.

"Cooper?" called Blaine, almost in disbelief.

Sure enough, it was his brother's voice that he heard again. "Yeah, it's me. What are you doing home?"

"Me? What about you? Why are you even here?"

"Whoa, okay. If you're pissed off about something, no need to take it out on your big bro."

"Sorry. I'm just...mad."

"Um...okay." Cooper paused. Blaine wondered if he should say something, but it was his brother who spoke first. "I'm gonna be downstairs."

"No," Blaine found himself saying, almost against his own will.

He could almost see the bewildered look on Cooper's face. "What?"

"I need to talk to somebody, and you're kind of the only person around. Even though I still don't know why you're even in Lima."

"Oh." A brief pause followed, and Blaine wondered what his brother was going to do. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah."

The door creaked open, and Cooper stepped in, dressed in his customary leather jacket and black jeans. "What's up? Girl problems?"

"Boy problems," Blaine groaned, then proceeded to hide his face in a pillow.

Cooper sighed. "Oh, right, you're gay. I give a lot of advice on girls to my friends, since they just kind of, I don't know, gravitate towards me. So I talk about girl problems a lot." He stopped. "Are guy problems kind of the same? Or is it, like, a whole different ballgame?"

"Sort of," said Blaine, his voice muffled.

Another very awkward silence followed. Blaine wondered if asking Cooper for advice had been the right decision.

It was Cooper who broke the silence this time. "Listen, dude, I've never, you know, BEEN WITH a guy, but I do know this about girls." He leaned in close to Blaine, who turned his head a millimeter so he could hear Cooper better. "Girls...they have lots of layers. They might seem like they're one thing on the outside, but they're really someone completely different on the inside. It's like...like a vanilla cake."

"I hate vanilla cake. It's too sweet. Besides, Cooper, that's a really bad analogy. You can't really compare people to food."

"Yeah, you can, actually," said Cooper, shifting into a more comfortable sitting position. "Like you just said, you hate vanilla cake, right?" Blaine nodded into the pillow. "But you love the frosting." After a slight hesitation, Blaine nodded again. Cooper continued slowly, carefully, like he was testing a frozen skating pond to make sure that it wouldn't collapse beneath his feet. "See, girls- well, not just girls, I guess- PEOPLE can sometimes be like vanilla cake with frosting. When you first see it, all you see is the frosting, and it looks really good, right? But...but after you cut into it, you can see the vanilla cake inside, the kind you don't like. And it's too late to put the piece back, because after you touch it, nobody else wants to because they automatically think you always have a cold. No offense," he added, after Blaine shot him a surprisingly bitchy glare for a sixteen-year-old boy. "They do it to me, too."

Blaine sunk back into the pillow. "That's shockingly insightful for you, Cooper, but it's really not helping." He rolled over onto his back and wached the fan do lazy twirls on his ceiling. "He tries to seem really cool and sexy on the outside, but there's something...something off about him. I can't put my finger on it yet."

Cooper sighed and flopped down next to Blaine. Blaine, surprised at Cooper's sudden display of affection, shied away from him a little bit. Cooper didn't notice. "Is he...is he like a Barbie?"

"What?"

"You know, plastic on the outisde, nothing on the inside. Like that Evans kid in Glee club."

"How do you know about Sam?"

"I had your bedroom bugged when I was thirteen so you wouldn't keep stealing my clothes."

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Of course you did. Anyway, no, I don't think he's a...a Barbie. There's just something...weird about him. Like... it's almost like the look you see on those war veterans' faces. Like, you know they've seen terrible things, but they keep it all packed down. They don't talk about it."

Cooper didn't say anything, obviously deep in thought. "Well..." he said finally, "maybe he went through a war, too."

"He's sixteen."

"Not that kind of war, dumbass. Like...a war with youself. Like he's fighting things nobody else can see."

Blaine was silent for for a second before he spoke again, contemplating Cooper's abnormally deep answer. "Maybe."

Cooper stood up abruptly. "Well, I gotta go make dinner now-"

"You mean you have to order Chinese from that place down the street."

"Well, yeah. Anyway, good luck with your troubles, and I'm going to go try to find that Chinese place's number-"

Blaine sat up before Cooper could walk out. "Hey, Coop, could I ask you one more question?"

Cooper turned around. "Ask away, little bro."

"Why are you even here? Shouldn't you still be in LA?"

Cooper stepped closer to Blaine. "They gave me a weeklong break, so I decided to visit the old casa." Upon seeing the confused look on Blaine's face, Cooper grinned. "I'm not a jerk all the time, Blainers." He ruffled Blaine's hair (or tried to, seeing as it was cemented down with gel), and left the room.

"Just most of the time!" Blaine called after his brother. Cooper laughed from down the hallway.

As soon as Blaine was sure that Cooper was safely downstairs, he grabbed his laptop from beide his bed and flipped it open. After logging in and opening his Internet browser, he typed "kurt hummel" into the Google search bar, curious to see if some information about Kurt could be found on the web. Maybe he had a Facebook page, or a Twitter, or an Instagram. Anything.

But as soon as Blaine hit the enter key, he was instantly disappointed. There were a few results for the name, like some guy in Sweden and another guy working for Microsoft, but none of them were the real Kurt. Crap. He continued scrolling through the pages, desperate for any information on this strange boy. But there was nothing.

However, after a couple minutes of clicking desperately on every link and finding nothing about the Kurt he knew, something caught his eye. "Head Cheerleader Leads Squad To Eighth Consecutive Regional Championship". Blaine clicked on the blue lettering, his heart pounding in anticipation.

_February 8th, 2011_

_Lima, Ohio- Special Correspondent Emily Ackerman recently spoke to Sue Sylvester, the coach of the McKinley High cheerleading squad (better known within the school as "Cheerios"), which has won seven consecutive National championships since 2003. Sylvester was refreshingly frank in her conversation, stating that her cheerleaders are "champions in every aspect of their lives". It seems that this may be true, as the McKinley High Cheerios recently snagged another first-pace trophy at Regionals last weekend. The performance was both visually and athletically breathtaking, with amazing special effects and stunning leaps and jumps by the cheerleaders themselves. However, the crown jewel of the performance was Lima's own Kurt Hummel, one of the only males on the squad, who performed stunning acrobatics and dance steps with the other cheerleaders in the performance. Ackerman spoke to Hummel as well, who performed a seven-minute Celine Dion medley entirely in French at last year's Nationals, winning the Cheerios the competition._

_Hummel, a young teenager in his junior year at McKinley High, stated that "cheerleading is all about winning. Sometimes you have to pick between teams, so when you do, pick the one that will help you come out on top...I've had to make some very tough decisions in my life, and when I do, I just ask myself, will this help me succeed? Is it worth my time? If it's not, and it's pointless, I don't keep doing it."_

Blaine closed his laptop slowly, something like anxiety clutching at his heart. He barely registered Cooper calling from downstairs, telling him that dinner was ready. He just stood up slowly and took a deep breath, willing himself to stay compsed. There was something so mysterious about Kurt, like...like he was somebody different than he let on. Like he had been somebody different.

And that whole thing about things being worth his time...what wasn't worth his time? Wasn't Blaine? Or was Blaine simply a distraction, something to play around with to keep his mind off everything else? Blaine bit his lip, one burning question rooting itself into his mind.

Who was Kurt Hummel? And who had he been before?

* * *

** So. There it is. It's short and sweet.**

**The story's gonna pick up speed soon. After the next few chapters, it starts moving really fast. I promise!**

**I hope you liked it!**


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